


And the crowds don't remember my name

by mtothedestiel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, Anniversary, Bottom Steve Rogers, Champagne, Daddy Kink, Domestic, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Marriage, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Pizza, Possessive Bucky Barnes, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Rich Bucky, Rimming, Smut, Top Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 18:26:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6577549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtothedestiel/pseuds/mtothedestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I swear sweetheart, the day I can't get it up for you is the day you have my permission to put me in a home, cause I'll be on death’s door.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the crowds don't remember my name

**Author's Note:**

> Did I just title a fic with Ed Sheeran lyrics? As a matter of fact I did. Despite what the title may imply, this is not a canon fic, but a charming pwp AU involving older!Bucky and (significantly but not in a gross way) younger!Steve who may or may not be CEO Bucky’s trophy husband. This story was founded on two consecutive thoughts that popped into my head, which were “Steve totally loving being Bucky’s kept man and calling him daddy in his deep manly Brooklyn voice” and “Bucky loving on Steve and calling him pet names ALL THE TIME.” Here is the final product for your enjoyment.

Bucky wakes up with a groan to warm, wet suction on his half hard cock.  Eyes closed, he reaches for the body he fell asleep beside only to find empty silk sheets, still warm.  He shifts, and a pair of gentle hands pin his hips against his California king mattress.  The suction on his cock increases, and he moans.   

Bucky blinks away the bright morning light streaming in the floor to ceiling windows of his penthouse apartment.  His pretty baby is perched between his legs, naked as the day he was born except for a pair of tight black boxer briefs, pink lips wrapped tight around Bucky’s dick.  

Steve realizes he’s awake and pulls off, eyes crinkled in a smile as he moves lower and mouths at his husband’s balls, coating the sensitive skin in slow, sucking kisses.  Bucky’s eyes roll back as Steve pulls one then the other into his mouth.  He rolls them over his tongue while Bucky shivers and gasps his praises.  

When he’s fully hard Steve mouths up and down Bucky’s shaft, still staring through his lashes.  Bucky drags his fingers through Steve’s sleep mussed hair as Steve presses a kiss to the wet head of Bucky’s cock.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Bucky murmurs, cupping Steve’s jaw.

“Mm…” Steve nuzzles Bucky’s palm, sweet and sleepy, “Happy anniversary, daddy.”

Steve flushes bright pink, and damn if that isn’t his sweet vanilla baby to a tee.  He can suck cock like nobody’s business but he can’t even call Bucky “daddy” without going pinker than a flamingo.

“Jesus,” Bucky mutters ruefully, tracing over Steve’s wet bottom lip with his thumb, “Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

Steve beams, kissing the pad of Bucky’s thumb before pulling Bucky’s cock back into his mouth.

Now Bucky’s one and only has a long list of god given talents, and right at the top of that list is driving Bucky out of his fucking mind when he gives head.  Bucky is putty in Steve’s hands, a puddle of goo getting his brains sucked out through his dick.  He’s getting too old for this.  One of these days Steve is gonna put him in his goddamned grave, pulling the head of Bucky’s cock into the back of his throat like that.

Bucky moans and thrusts into the sweet torture of that pressure and suction.  Steve, the fucking maniac, just throws Bucky another heated stare and _swallows_ , and that, friends, is all she wrote.  

Bucky comes and comes and his sweetheart just drinks it all down like the good boy he is.  It’s obscene, it what it is, the sounds Steve makes with Bucky’s cock in his throat, swallowing everything Bucky gives him.  And the look on his face, _Christ._  Like Bucky’s giving him a gift, not shooting off in his mouth without so much as a warning.   

 James Buchanan Barnes is without a doubt the luckiest man alive.

 “Fuck, Steve, you’re too good for me,” Bucky wheezes, once he can form thoughts that aren’t variations on the Lord’s name in vain, “I don’t deserve the things you do with your mouth.”

Steve just licks a drop of cum from the corner of his lips like a cat who got the cream.   

“Jesus Christ, honey, get up here and kiss me,” Bucky demands, “I think I’m dying.  You sucked out my soul.”

Steve laughs at him.   _Laughs_ , the little shit.  Bucky whines, making grabby hands, and Steve has mercy, crawling up the bed to deliver a sweet good morning kiss that still tastes a little bit like spunk.  Bucky doesn’t care, curling his tongue in Steve’s mouth with a smile and slipping a hand down Steve’s chest.  He teases a nipple just to hear his baby gasp before going for Steve’s dick, aiming to return the gift that was that spectacular blowjob.

Bucky pauses when he finds Steve limp between his legs, the front of his boxers wet against Bucky’s fingers.  Steve ducks his head, shy.

“I already came,” he confesses.  

“When you were-”  

“Yeah.” If it’s possible Steve blushes even darker.  “I really like you in my mouth.”

Not for the first time in their marriage Bucky is struck dumb by the wonder that is Steven Grant Barnes.  

“You’re the light of my life, you know that?” Bucky says eventually, kissing Steve’s fuzzy bed head.

Steve squirms in Bucky’s arms, pleased.  “C’mon,” he says, “Get dressed.  I’m making breakfast.”

~

Once Bucky is showered and dressed in a dove gray suit he follows his nose to the kitchen, where Steve has already got the eggs and bacon out on the counter.  He’s dressed more casually, in fitted jeans and the white Rag and Bone cashmere sweater Bucky got him for his last birthday.  

Steve has his laptop open on the countertop, watching footage from one of those morning gossip shows as he starts laying strips of bacon on their flat top griddle.

“ _...Or he’s a live-in escort with a permanent contract,”_ chimes a woman’s voice, to the sound of a few claps and hoots from the studio audience, “‘ _The Husband Experience’, am I right?_ ”

Bucky wrinkles his nose, laying his jacket over the back of one their high kitchen stools before going to the fridge for orange juice.

“ _Honestly Christine,”_ another voice pipes up _,_ “ _The man’s only crime is being married to a handsome millionaire who happens to be a little older-”_

 _“Thirteen_ years _older-”_

 _“If Steve Barnes was a woman we wouldn’t even be talking about this.  In fact I find the media’s fixation on him to be downright toxic.  It really says something about our perspective on masculinity that a_ man _who allows himself to be dependent on his marriage for security and comfort is faced with such venomous suspicion.  Like any of us wouldn’t kill to be in his shoes-”_

“You don’t need to listen to that,” Bucky interrupts once it becomes clear the heated debate over Steve’s right to marry for money is far from over.  Steve closes his laptop with a sigh and goes back to turning the bacon starting to crackle on the stove.

“It was supposed to be about the Foundation Gala,” he explains, “But they always manage to circle back.”

Steve is still frowning and Bucky can’t have that, so he scoots in close and hugs his baby from behind, nuzzling into the curve of his muscled shoulders.  Steve sighs again, but he leans back into Bucky’s touch.

Steve and Bucky’s surprise nuptials had caused one hell of a media frenzy once it hit the papers.  Bucky always made an effort to keep his personal life out of the public eye, but when the thirty-nine year old CEO of a Fortune 500 company marries a twenty-six year old _male_ massage therapist with a handful of modeling gigs on his resume there’s bound to be some stir in the gossip columns.  The resulting opinions aired on late night talk shows were varied and vitriolic.  

The media attention had petered out a few months after their wedding but between their anniversary and the massive charity gala Winter Soldier Inc. is hosting to celebrate it, the dust is getting kicked up again, and with it the same batch of hot and cold speculation.  Steve is a modern day Cinderella story, rocketing from the bottom of society to the top.  Steve is a cold hearted social climber, using his good looks to seduce one of New York’s most eligible bachelors.  Bucky is a lucky-in-love Prince Charming breaking barriers for LGBT business people.  Bucky is another lecherous one percenter trading his money for a trophy to decorate his Tribeca penthouse.  It all starts to become white noise after a while.

“I wish they’d just leave us alone,” Steve says, cracking half a dozen eggs into a glass bowl.

Bucky doesn’t care what the media has to say about him.  He learned long ago to take the good with a grain of salt and let the bad roll off.  He just wishes he could protect Steve from the public scrutiny.  It’s the one element of Steve’s wellbeing that’s beyond Bucky’s control, besides keeping his PR team on constant alert, and taking care of Steve is his number one priority.  Bucky’s loved Steve Rogers body and soul since the moment they met, and if his money is the only thing keeping Steve around like the papers say, well, he wishes he could at least put that money to use where it counts.

“They're just jealous, honey, cause you're young and smart and pretty as hell,” Bucky promises, kissing the back of Steve’s neck, “And somehow this old man managed to trick you into marrying him and now I get you all to myself.”

Bucky can practically feel Steve rolling his eyes.  “You're forty, babe,” he says, for the millionth time, “You're not _old._ ”

“Next to a pretty young thing like you I am,” Bucky shoots back without heat, “You wear me out, you know?”

Steve kisses him with a devilish glint in his eye.  “You seem to keep up fine where it counts,” he says against Bucky’s mouth, nipping at his bottom lip before pulling away again, leaving Bucky gobsmacked as usual.

“Well, with inspiration like _that,_ ” he manages to sputter, “How could I not?  I swear sweetheart, the day I can't get it up for you is the day you have my permission to put me in a home, cause I'll be on death’s door.”

Steve pauses scrambling eggs to drop another kiss on Bucky’s lips, this one more innocent.  “Never,” he promises, then grinning, “I’ll just hire in a full time nurse.”

Bucky plants a smack on his ass for his cheek and dodges the returned blow from the greasy spatula.

“Make yourself useful,” Steve scolds, cheeks pink again, “I want coffee.”

“Bossy,” Bucky growls, sneaking one more pinch before busying himself with their Nescafé.

“You’ve got some sessions today, right?” Bucky asks once they’re set up at the breakfast bar with espresso and eggs and only slightly burned bacon.

Marrying into the Barnes fortune didn’t just mean moving into Bucky’s skyrise apartment and a designer wardrobe (though Bucky does love to see his baby in Prada).  Steve quit his job as a masseuse at an exclusive spa, a place he hated despite it being where he and Bucky first met.  Instead Steve offered his services to a local VA, and now he volunteers four days a week.  Massage therapy does wonders for vets recovering from injury overseas, or just guys who are relearning that touch doesn’t mean pain.  Steve comes home most days with as many sad stories as happy ones, but he’s finally doing what he dreamed about when he got his certification.  

“I’ve got a couple,” Steve agrees, “I told Sam not to go too light in my schedule just because of the date but I'm pretty sure he ignored me.”

“Kate did the same for me, I think,” Bucky agrees, “It's check in day on all our international projects yet somehow my last meeting ends at four.”

“So it looks like we're both free for dinner,” Steve drawls, batting his eyelashes, “You got any plans in mind?”  

“Only with you, gorgeous,” Bucky replies, “The world is our oyster.  Paris, Milan, you name the city and I'll start looking up restaurants.”

Steve wrinkles his nose.  “I think I’d rather stay in.”

“Yeah?” Bucky checks, “You know I can get us reservations on short notice if there’s somewhere you want to go.”

“That’s it though, right?.  We can go to a five-star restaurant any time we want,” Steve points out, hooking his ankle around Bucky’s under their breakfast bar, “I’d rather eat take out and drink champagne at home in our underwear.”

Bucky grins, kissing Steve’s hand.  “Now that would be _really_ special.”

They’re still feeding each other bacon and debating pizza vs. Chinese when Bucky’s phone buzzes to let him know his car has arrived.  

“Another day at the office,” Steve quips while Bucky shrugs on his suit jacket and gets his winter coat from the front closet.

“Gotta keep the world safe,” Bucky says, dipping down to give his baby a kiss.  A thought occurs to him, and he turns the quick peck into a slow, languid embrace.  Steve looks dazed when Bucky finally pulls away.

“Just so you know,” Bucky murmurs, “I’d eat out every night if you wanted, no matter how many reporters follow us around.  I ain’t ashamed to be seen in the tabloids as long as it’s with you, honey.”  

Steve’s smile is dazzling.  He pulls Bucky in for one more quick smooch.  “I know,” he replies, straightening Bucky’s tie, “But thanks.”    

“I’ll see you tonight,” Bucky promises, “Say hi to Sam for me.”

“Will do.  Say hi to Natasha.”

~

What was meant to be an hour meeting with a team from Stark Enterprises turns into an entire morning when Stark himself shows up and wants to renegotiate their contract for the coming fiscal year.  It’s their CEO Ms. Potts who actually makes the contract decisions on the Stark side of things, but Winter Soldier is primarily a security firm.  They need cutting edge technology to stay ahead of the game, and for that they need Stark Enterprises, so Bucky spends several hours in a conference room and a very long lunch more or less holding Stark’s hand while his team does the actual work of going over their previous contracts with Pepper and coming to the expected conclusion that everything was fine from the get go.  It’s a lot of pointless work, but Stark is one of their primary business partnerships and Bucky wasn’t about to gamble that on the tantrum of a spoiled playboy who also happens to be chair of Stark Enterprises’ board of directors.

The day is half over before he knows it.  Bucky steps into the foyer of his executive office, handing off his peacoat and briefcase to his secretary.  

“What’s the story, Kate?” he asks, straightening his tie.  

“Ms. Romanov is on her way for your one o’clock meeting, and then you have the teleconference with Mr. Odinson from the Nordic project at two-thirty,” his secretary recites, following Bucky through a set of frosted glass doors to his office proper, “Also, we were contacted by an emissary from the Wakandan government.  Apparently they want to meet.  They say the request comes right from the top.”

“T’Challa wants a meeting?” Bucky ponders, interest piqued, “Huh.  Get them on the phone before the end of the day.  Whatever time works for them.  We can reschedule Thor if we have to.”

“Yes, Mr. Barnes,”  Kate replies, “Also your floral delivery to the VA has been confirmed.”  

Bucky smiles.  “Thanks Kate.”

Bucky checks the messages on his personal phone to find a pic from his husband.  Steve must have had one of his friends at the VA take it.  He’s blushing red as a tomato, enshrined in an entire florist’s worth of white roses.  Surrounded by the lush arrangements Bucky picked out Steve looks like an Art Nouveau painting come to life.  

 _Too much!_ The caption reads, but Steve’s besotted expression in the photo is anything but reprimanding.  

Bucky texts back _ <3333 _and saves the picture as his phone background.

“Mr. Barnes,” his secretary interrupts politely from the intercom on his desk, “Ms. Romanov has arrived.”

“Send her in, thank you,” Bucky replies.  He puts his phone away with one more fond glance at his husband and rises to greet his friend and Russian business liaison as she steps through the parting glass doors.

“Natasha,” he greets her warmly, kissing her briefly on both cheeks, “A pleasure as always.”

“James,” she returns, just as fond, taking her usual seat in front of his desk, “How is your husband?”

“Steve is great,” Bucky replies, “And yours?”

“A happy disaster, as usual,” Natasha says with a hint of a smile, “Shall we talk business?”

“Let’s,” Bucky agrees, pulling up the relevant files on his Starkpad, “Bring me up to speed on things in Moscow.”

~

“To us.”  Bucky toasts his flute gently against Steve’s and takes a sip of the delicate champagne.  

It’s seven o’clock and they’re in bed, both naked as the day they were born drinking the last of the champagne they served at their wedding a year ago.  An empty Luigi’s box sits discarded on the floor.

It turns out a 1998 Dom Perignon and an Italian Supreme with Extra Olives compliment each other nicely.

“To us,” Steve agrees, toasting their glasses again.  It’s probably their eleventh or twelfth toast of the night, but who’s counting?  They’re both well fed and giggling, trading bubbly kisses against creamy silk sheets.  

“How are you so beautiful, huh?” Bucky asks, admiring Steve in the warm evening light.  The winter sunlight is gone already, leaving only the lamps in their room to cast Steve in soft, dreamy golds.  He’s serene, sitting up against their headboard looking at Bucky like he makes the world turn.  

“I got a guy who takes good care of me,” Steve replies.  Bucky shakes his head, claiming another kiss.  

“Don’t flatter me, sweetheart, we both know you’re too good for me.”  Steve makes a sound of disagreement, but Bucky is too busy kissing Steve’s neck to argue.  He lets himself linger, affection turning to something more intent.  Steve sighs into Bucky’s touch, setting his drink aside and leaning back to give Bucky more room to work.  

“Careful, Buck,” Steve murmurs as Bucky sucks a kiss in the tender spot behind his ear.  

“Hm?”

Too late Bucky realizes that he’s overbalanced his own glass, still nearly half full of sparkling wine, and it spills over onto Steve’s chest.  Steve jumps, and shivers at the splash of the chilled liquid down his torso.  

“Whoops,” Bucky murmurs, ducking down to lick the spilled champagne from Steve’s warm skin, a long and winding trail from his husband’s navel to his right nipple. Bucky grins when he feels Steve’s nipple go stiff under his tongue, and when he bites down on the peaked flesh Steve lets out a whimper.  Bucky licks a broad stripe across Steve’s pec to sooth the sting and rolls his opposite nipple between his thumb and forefinger.  Steve sighs, rocking his hardening cock into Bucky’s thigh.

“Anybody ever tell you you’ve got the prettiest tits?” Bucky asks, rising up on his elbows again to take Steve’s mouth, their kisses still champagne sweet.  

Steve laughs, setting Bucky’s empty flute aside.  “Only you.”  

Bucky pinches Steve’s nipple again just to feel his dick twitch against Bucky’s thigh.  “Damn right, honey.”

“I’m gonna be sticky in a few minutes,” Steve whines, though his kisses are growing heated and he’s still grinning like a dope.  

“I’ll make sure you have better things to worry about, sweetheart,” Bucky promises, kissing down his throat again, “Stickier things.”

Steve laughs and squirms, ticklish, as Bucky sucks the remaining traces of champagne from his skin.  He works his way down until he’s laying a trail of teasing kisses around Steve’s cock, hefting Steve’s thighs over his shoulders.  Steve tries to work his hips up towards Bucky’s mouth, but Bucky only placates him with a kitten lick across the head of his cock before moving on.  He has a less traveled destination in mind.

“C’mon, daddy,” Steve pants, tossing his head against their sheets while Bucky noses behind his balls.  

Bucky parts him, blowing a stream of cool air on his hole, and savors Steve’s involuntary shiver.  

“Buck-"

“Shhh, baby,” Bucky murmurs into the crease of Steve’s ass, “Daddy’s gonna take care of what’s his.”  

Bucky licks into Steve’s hole, and Steve shouts, unprepared for the onslaught of sensation.  His shout peters out into a series of choked moans as Bucky starts eating him out, lavishing his baby’s perfect asshole with the attention it deserves.  Steve clenches around his tongue, and Bucky lets loose a groan of his own.  He sucks on Steve’s rim, getting him wet and sloppy and ready for more.  His sweetheart opens up so nice for Bucky’s tongue.

Steve’s body is a feast, and Bucky is an unrepentant glutton.  He licks Steve’s asshole open until his baby is begging for his cock, then fingers him for a few minutes more, just to remind him who’s in charge.  Steve gets his revenge when Bucky is slicking himself up, rolling them until Bucky is on his back and Steve is on his knees, the swell of his ass just brushing Bucky’s cock.  

“Like this,” Steve demands, smoothing his hands up and down Bucky’s torso and rocking down so the head of Bucky’s dick catches on his rim.  

“Anything you want,” Bucky replies, eyes full of Steve, his broad shoulders and his sculpted chest.  His soft mouth and his gorgeous cock, already stiff and dripping.  

“I want your dick,” Steve says, voice just a little too husky for Bucky to consider that a smartass remark.  Bucky’s hands slide around to the meat of his ass, pulling him open while Steve reaches behind himself to guide Bucky’s cock inside.  Steve exhales and shifts his weight backwards.

For a moment there’s only the agonizing tease of pressure against the head his cock, then Bucky slips past Steve’s rim and he’s slowly but steadily sheathed in snug, wet heat.  

Steve stops about halfway, panting, and Bucky is already seeing stars from the tight squeeze of Steve’s ass around his cock.  Steve rocks for a second, a whimper escaping his lips as he gets used to the stretch.  

“Shh, baby boy,” Bucky coaxes, gripping Steve’s heavy muscled thighs, “Take your time, I’ve got you.”

Steve’s eyes are a little glazed as he lowers himself the rest of the way down onto Bucky’s cock, lips parted and wet.  “Feels so good, daddy,” he breathes, circling his hips after a long minute.  

“I know,” Bucky agrees, overwhelmed by the clutch of Steve’s body, “You’re so tight.  So perfect, Stevie-”

“Love you,” Steve groans, leaning down for a kiss, “Love you so much, Buck.”

They kiss until their mouths get sloppy, lips landing on jaws and throats as they start to rock together.  Until Steve can’t help fucking himself back on Bucky’s cock, greedy for pleasure.  God, he’s a vision, punch drunk and desperate for it.

“You’re such a gift, you know that?” Bucky pants, kissing haphazardly over Steve’s cheeks, “Honestly, honey, I can’t believe you even give me the time of day.  I really can’t.”

Eyes soft, Steve drags his fingers through Bucky’s hair, dropping a tender kiss on the cleft of his chin.  With a huff of breath he rises up and plants himself on Bucky’s lap, taking his cock as deep in his ass as it can go.  Steve starts to rise and fall in a steady rhythm, hands planted on Bucky’s chest.  With every fall Bucky feels muscle clench under his hands.  He sees Steve’s slack, rosy mouth.  He soaks in the breathy cries as Steve takes him in over and over.   

“God, you’re so gorgeous on my dick,”  Bucky rumbles, “And you love it, don’t you beautiful?  I bet you just ache without something inside you.”

Steve just groans, lashes fluttering as he bounces on Bucky’s cock.  

“Tell me how to make it better,” Bucky coaxes, “Tell daddy what else you need, baby.”

Steve lets out a soft, high sound, and he drags Bucky’s hand from his thigh up to his chest, squeezing Bucky’s fingers over his ample pectoral.  Bucky thumbs his nipples, letting his nails skim the already sensitive flesh.  Steve whimpers again.

“Like that?” Bucky asks, “You like it sweetheart?”

Steve nods frantically, arching his back to push his chest further into Bucky’s hands.

“U-use your mouth again?” Steve stammers, biting his lip, as though Bucky could deny his baby anything, “Please, daddy.”

Bucky feels the burn in his abs as he sits up to pull Steve’s left nipple into his mouth, his hands dropping to squeeze Steve’s waist.  He licks and nibbles, rolled the tight bud between his teeth while Steve writhes, panting, still fucking himself in Bucky’s lap.

“Don't stop,” he pleads, chest heaving against Bucky’s lips, “Jesus, Buck, just like that.”

Bucky sucks hickeys into Steve’s gorgeous tits as he reaches behind to feel where his cock is plunging in and out of his baby’s perfect ass.  He teases his fingers against Steve’s taut rim, shuddering as Steve clenches around him.

“You take it so sweet,” Bucky swears, “Christ, Steve, you were made for this.”

“Made for _you_ ,” Steve replies, voice rough, and _Jesus_ doesn't that cut Bucky right to the quick.

“Of course you were,” he promises, kissing wet over Steve’s throat, “Just for me, honey.  I wasn't livin’ til I found you.”

Steve tips his head back, breath ragged.  His rhythm is starting to get rougher and less even as he gets closer.  He reaches between them to grasp his dripping cock.  Bucky slaps his hand away.  

“What’d I just say?” he growls, wrapping his own fingers around Steve’s cock and giving it a firm pull, “That’s mine, baby boy.”

Steve cries out.  He fucks himself onto Bucky’s cock, his skin getting slick with sweat under Bucky’s palms.  

“Daddy,” he sobs, eyes glassy, “I need it so bad, daddy.”

“What do you need, sweetheart?” Bucky lets the sweat and the pearly liquid dripping from Steve’s cock ease the steady drag of his fist.

“I need to come,” Steve begs, “Oh, god, can I?   _Please-_ ”

Steve doesn’t need Bucky’s permission to come.  They’ve never delved into such formality with each other, though Bucky would have to be blind not to see the way Steve heats up when he gives the occasional order in bed.  His baby doesn’t _need_ permission, but he _wants_ it, and Bucky is more than happy to provide.  

“Of course you can,” Bucky rumbles, thumbing the head of Steve's dick, “Any time you like, baby.  You know I love to see you make a mess.”

“Oh fuck, _fuck-”_  Steve goes stiff with a short, sharp cry and spills over Bucky’s fist.  Bucky chokes as Steve’s ass clamps down around him like a vice, the tight, slick, heat of him putting spots in Bucky’s vision.

“Come in me, Buck,” Steve begs, “Inside-”

“Of course,” Bucky says again, “There’s nowhere else, honey- no _one_ else-”

Steve bears down while Bucky gets his knees under him and thrusts up, burying his cock as deep as it can go as he shudders and comes.  Bucky holds Steve flush against him, kissing his sweat slicked skin and they continue to rock together, the slide made easier by Bucky’s release.  Through the blood rushing in his ears he can hear Steve mumbling endearments into his damp hair, high off their consecutive orgasms.  

“Thank you,” he whispers urgently in between kisses against Bucky’s temple and brow, “Thank you, daddy.  You feel so good.”  

“God, I love you,” Bucky slurs back, burying his face in Steve’s neck and breathing deep.  He can’t believe the year it’s been, married to the love of his life.  It’s still unreal.  Bucky gets to be snug inside this beautiful boy, made just for him.  “I love you so much, sweetheart, it just knocks me out sometimes.”    

“Are you sure it it’s not the sex?” Steve asks, limbs wrapped heavy and languid around Bucky’s shoulders.  

Bucky lands a playful smack on Steve’s ass and he yelps, still stuffed full of Bucky’s softening cock.  “No, it ain’t the sex, smartass.  It’s you, being my fucking soul mate.”

Steve grins, placing one more kiss against Bucky’s forehead before nuzzling into the curve of Bucky’s shoulder.  They slump back onto the mattress together, content to lie in a sweaty heap and make out until Bucky slips out of Steve’s ass and the cum starts to get unpleasantly tacky between their bellies.

“We should get cleaned up,” Bucky suggests, stroking up and down the long line of Steve’s back.

Steve shakes his head, burrowing further into Bucky’s embrace.  “Not yet.”

Bucky surrenders without argument, wrapping Steve more securely in his arms.  His baby is a warm, sleepy weight against his chest, and his eyes are starting to get heavy as well.  If they fall asleep they’ll regret it in the morning, but Bucky is too damn happy to care right now.

“Buck?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”  Bucky can feel his husband’s smile against the side of his neck.

“Happy anniversary.”

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
